Riot Act
by Wendymypooh
Summary: Vin Tanner is subjected to a mental 'riot act' by an angry Chris Larabee. Set in the ATF au.


Chris Larabee was NOT a happy camper as he strolled through the bullpen and into his office. It was bad enough that Nathan Jackson, the team medic, had just diagnosed them with laryngitis and ordered him not to speak for at least a week straight, but the rest of Team 7 seemed to think it was hilarious. He knew that he sometimes harped on them about getting their jobs done right, and was over protective to the point of smothering them at times, especially JD, but he was not that bad of a boss. Was he?

To top it off, instead of showing him some sympathy for his suffering, he had heard nothing but wisecracks as he entered the bullpen a few minutes earlier. He knew that they were only joking around, but he felt like crap, and was it too much for the rest of his teammates, his brothers, to give him a little slack.

*Think any harder Larabee and your head is going to explode.*

Vin's voice in his head was filled with amusement.

Chris could almost imagine Team 7's sharpshooter sitting at his desk, long legs stretched out under his desk, arms folded across his chest and head resting comfortably on the back of his chair.

*Then don't listen in!*

*C'mon cowboy, we were only having some fun…no sense getting your jeans in a twist.*

*I am not in the mood, Vin.*

*When are you ever in the mood?*

*That is it! Nathan said not to speak aloud, he never said nothing about me speaking my mind!*

*Now, Chris…*

Vin had suddenly realized that aggravating Larabee even more than he had already been really had not been a good idea.

*Don't you Chris, me!* Larabee snarled in his head, making the Texan wince. * You have just volunteered to be my sounding off board since I cannot scream at everyone else! For starters, I deserve to have a little bit more sympathy around here from you and the rest of the kindergarten cops! If it wasn't for all the asinine stunts that the lot of you pull, I wouldn't have lost my ability to speak if I hadn't spent all morning in Travis' office arguing against his sending us all on some psychobabble retreat so that we can all get a better handle on our emotions!*

*A retreat? Guess Travis really was mad over that prank, JD, Buck, and I played on that snippety assistant D.A, Benton Fields?*

*Mad was not the word for it! He was fit to be tied! He wants me to write a formal apology to that pencil pushing, whining weasel Fields and hand deliver the dang thing to him in person! *

*Ah, hell, Chris…I am sorry...*

*Save it! * Larabee was on a roll and Tanner was the unwilling volunteer to listen to his continued tirade.

Out in the bullpen, all manner of work slowly stopped as each of the five other members of Team 7 caught on to something not being quite right with Vin. The tracker's earlier relaxed position in his chair had come to a halt, and now he sat almost rigid in it. Nerves twitched in the side of his neck, his jaw clenched, and from time to time, he winced as if he was in pain, and yet he never said one word to indicate that there was anything going on at all.

"What do you suppose is wrong with him?" JD whispered to Buck.

"Don't know." Buck replied. "Maybe he's having a fit of some kind."

"He certainly acts as if he is in some discomfort. "Ezra acknowledged as he studied the sharpshooter.

"What do you think, Nathan?" Josiah asked their medic.

"I don't know." Nathan replied, as he watched with the others as the sharpshooter continued experiencing the twitching, clenching and wincing for several moments more Finally, he couldn't take watching any longer without finding out what was going on with Vin, so he rose from behind his desk and moved over to Vin's desk.

He squatted down in front of Tanner. " Vin, are you all right?"

"No…I'm not alright! I've got one pissed off Larabee reading me the riot act in my head and I can't get him to shut up!" Tanner exclaimed.

The rest of the team members burst into unsympathetic laughter much to Tanner's chagrin. "Thanks a lot, boys."


End file.
